


Walk This Way

by MariaMediaOverThere



Series: Seungchuchu Week Vol. II [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Denial, M/M, fight me she's perfect, observational jargon, sara is seunggil's friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 15:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12390948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaMediaOverThere/pseuds/MariaMediaOverThere
Summary: SeungchuchuWeek 2 Day 2: Shape of You – PiningIf you asked Lee Seung-Gil to describe Phichit Chulanont, he’d say that the Thai's feet never touches the ground.





	Walk This Way

If you asked Lee Seung-Gil to describe Phichit Chulanont, he’d say that the Thai's feet never touches the ground.

Rather, Phichit lifts his legs by the knee and the world beneath him graciously turns for him.

When others stride or saunter, Phichit Chulanont’s footfalls bear no sound, and his gait is imbued with an artful gracefulness that could only be achieved if he bore no weight on his shoulders. Carefree, it’s like Phichit could be blown away with a strong gust of air.

Of course, that turned out to be Phichit-for-the-cameras. That Phichit would lift his head high and beam at the audience, sweat dripping down his temples.  
But Phichit out of that latex and body glitter was a different beast. Energized and buzzing with fast speech and gossip and pictures and memes and emotions- it’s an unfamiliar figure that Seung-Gil meets outside the showers.

Phichit’s hair is wet and splayed over his eyes. His face has uneven skin tone and smudged eyeliner, but he grins as if he looks perfect (and he does). Steam rolling off his bare chest, he asked Seung-Gil if he’d like to join him for lunch.  
Seung-Gil focuses his energies into the bead of water that rolls down Phichit’s form and underneath the towel wrapped around his slim hips. He says no and leaves (and forgets his skates).

 

(He comes back for them 3 hours later, sure that everyone has left)

 

It takes him 6 days of watching Phichit seamlessly transition on and off the ice before Seung-Gil is tired of stamping down the coals that are being stoked in his guts.

 

“Is Phichit what?”

Seung-Gil makes a sound like gargling and grunting. “Listen, if you don’t want to help-”  
Sara pinches his sleeve and tuts little consolations- like a child trying to get their kitten out from under the bed.

He wants to list down all the logical reasons, but he doesn’t have any. Ashamed, Seung-Gil shrugs, hopefully coming off as dismissive instead of immature. Romantic feelings weren’t completely foreign from him, but neither were the people he usually tolerated before.  
Plus, he was like 8 the last and first time he had felt feelings for a man- and he was the “bad boy” member of a k-pop group. That doesn’t count; who could have resisted him anyways?

Crispino considers him warily, impish gaze watching Seung-Gil’s face now for any tells.  
He reorganizes his mental faculties to scrap together some semblance of an excuse, “Katsuki improved remarkably after entering a relationship. Leroy also excelled after his proposal. I want to observe if improvement and romantic ties are directly correlated, so that I may predict my competitors’ flux and adjust accordingly.”

Sara’s face falls from curious to annoyed- why, Seung-Gil doesn’t know nor care. He asked a simple question, and wants a simple answer, and tells her just that.  
Still stubborn, but still gripping the fabric of his arm, Seung-Gil breathes of a “As a friend…” before Sara’s face splits from her massive grin.

“So I am your friend?”  
“Is Phichit Chulanont single or what?”

 

The Italian smiles without teeth, cryptically, and it gives Seung-Gil a feeling of dread to watch her so smug. However, she relents, “He is. And available too. He likes girls and boys.”

“That’s… not what I asked.”

Sara raises her eyebrows skeptically, smile still in place, but says nothing.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything, S-”

“But what’s with that look?”

Sara flips her hair to the other shoulder, seemingly stalling to try and translate what she wants to say from Italian to English in her head.  
“I think you fancy Phichit.”

 

Seung-Gil snaps, red with fury, “I do not!”  
But his tone rings with vacant sentiment- because he knows. He fucking knows. But that doesn’t mean he’ll admit to that.  
The last thing he needs is to get his piqued interest snowballing into something… unnecessary.

Romantic inclinations lends itself to disaster, and that much is certain. “We’re not even compatible,” he shakes Sara’s grip off and lists the reasons on the tips of his fingers, “He’s so loud, and I don’t like all the attention, and he’s always so happy all the time, and I don’t like spending time outside, and- and-”

“Sounds like opposites attract.”  
She notes, voice unimpressed.

 

“I don’t even… I don’t have time to waste dating around. I am an athlete.”

 

“But I thought you were trying to figure out if ‘dating around’ makes you a better athlete?” She challenges, lips pursed, clearly trying to refrain from smiling over bursting Seung-Gil’s bubble.

“That’s… for others…” Seung-Gil bites out, flush with being cornered, “Not for me. Never for me.”

 

Sara’s self-satisfied demeanor breaks away and belatedly, he realizes his came out much sadder than he intended it to be.  
His chest feels tight. Wound around a finger. Phichit’s finger.

There’s a noise around the corner that Seung-Gil recognizes is the other Crispino- the arguably less tolerable one. He feels his patience wither away prematurely. Taking it as his cue to split, Seung-Gil steps back.

“Oh, hey, wait- uh…” Sara blinks hard.  
“If it… makes you feel any better, I think you two are more compatible than you think you may be.” Sara gives pause, “But that’s just my opinion.”

“I told you I’m not trying to date him.”

“I didn’t say you were.” Sara winks. 

 

Seung-Gil retreats to the confines of his room.

 

 

Unfortunately, the consequences of his actions catch up when Phichit bumps hips with him on the rink the next day.  
“So I heard you’re wondering if I’m single?”

“I’m…!” Seung-Gil huffs, a little annoyed- at Crispino or Chulanont, he’s not sure. Most likely, himself. “It was for research.”

“You could have just asked me directly, you know.” Phichit drawls, moving in lazy circles around him.

“Your stance is bad.”

Phichit’s mischievous look doesn’t falter, but he does correct the turn of his ankle, letting his hips open up. “So what’s this research about?”

“Nothing.”

Unrelenting, the circles that Phichit skates grow tighter so much so that his chest brushes Seung-Gil’s shoulder.

“This is harassment.” Seung-Gil sneers, pushing Phichit back with a hand against his navel. “I was wondering if relationships help improve athletic performance.”

“Seung-Gil!” Phichit halts his skating, disbelief clear on his features, “I didn’t know you were on the market!”

“I’m-! I’m not!” His collar feels hot, “It’s so that I can predict others, not for myself.”

“But if it does help, wouldn’t you also want a piece of that?” The ‘that’ Phichit is referring to is unclear on Seung-Gil’s part, and he’d rather not dwell on it like his hand dwells against Phichit’s shirt. Like he was burned, he pulls his hand away.

“I’m not a people person. I’m barely a person. I don’t date because I can’t date.”

 

Phichit laughs, and it harkens back to the figure of immaculate poise that Seung-Gil had always used to regard him with. His walls start to crumble.  
“I don’t understand why people think you’re unemotional. You’re dramatic as fuck.”

“More than you?” Seung-Gil challenges, lunging forward, luring Phichit to keep up with him.

“I’d like to think I’m very straightforward, just… excitable.”

“Understatement.”

“But it’s not a turn-off is it?”

It’s not insecurity that laces Phichit’s tone, but… something of a challenge. A snare of some kind, with Phichit’s half-lidded eyes and mouth drawn in a straight line.  
What else did Crispino divulge to him, Seung-Gil wants to know.

Upon his silence, the Thai just proceeds,  
“I don’t think that you can’t date, I think you’re just reserved.” Phichit tries, always willing to cheer someone up, even if unprompted. “I think you’d be a very sweet boyfriend.”

But Seung-Gil doesn’t need cheering up, he’s fine being miserably lovesick and thinking about Phichit’s shirtlessness before and after going to sleep. “I didn’t ask.”

 

Phichit tuts, but takes a hint, leaving Seung-Gil high and dry. The Korean swears that Phichit is exaggerating the swing of his hips as he hauls his legs forward to pick up speed. Graceful. Lightweight. Practically hovering over the ice.

But maybe that’s just his imagination.


End file.
